Don't Forget
by TheWiseInitiate
Summary: This story is basically your general "Jack survives" story with a few twists of my own. It features the points of view or Jack, Rose, Fabrizio, Ruth, Cal, and several others, and has a larger description of the events on Carpathia than the majority of stories like this one out there. The story is ten times better than the description!
1. Chapter 1

It was over. Every person swimming in the freezing Atlantic would die tonight. All would be silent within the hour. All voices would cease to be heard. All babies would stay hushed at their mother's sides for the last time. All men's yells would become faint. All of the women's screams would fade into nonexistence. All except six. Six. Six voices, all silent, but all would return eventually, hopefully forever, but the circumstance left no absolution.

The Titanic had sunk, and Rose Dewit-Bukater had gone down with it, along with Jack Dawson, and 1500 other still living souls. Who would be living after this experience and who would be drifting in the land of the unknown was yet to be determined by God himself. A young women lays on a bed board, and a man in the water next to her, the water of the Atlantic closing in on both, but one more quickly than the other, and logic could give a hint as to which one. As the night draws on, as fated by the state of all, the voices silence as planned. One by one, the light of their eyes fade out, as do the spirits of Those in Peril on the Sea. As it would seem, the song sung in church by many passengers at mass in the early hours of the day had a deeper meaning than thought of until this very moment. As the crowd died down, two voices rang out in conversation, until the point when only one voice was heard speaking, or rather singing of better times.

 _"_ _I love you, Jack."_ Said the young lady to the young man. Silly girl. Little did she know of her fate, that she would in fact be one of six to prevail, and with her, would be the man she so hungrily held on to, as if he was her lifeline, but blame could not be bound to her, for in fact, in a way, he was her lifeline. And she was his, for he was staring into her eyes with nothing but deep admiration and pure love. Few could go through an experience such as this one and still have the mind to think, as this man said earlier, about anything but the pain. Yet he did, and so did she.

The fact that in such a situation as this one, where the likeness of one's prevailing is as slim as the shore is wet, and that in such a time, one can hang on to the strings of their being and have the strength to want to live past a night such as this one in mid-April, 1912, are two likenesses to ponder indeed, yet somehow, on a board in the middle of the freezing Atlantic, both are being achieved. For the one thing stronger than fear, stronger than pain, is love. Love is such a funny thing, it can come and disappear faster than any element of life, and is far rarer than any precious gem or jewel. To understand love is a concept that is as easily grasped as any, yet is the hardest to come by. So many fall into the deep pit of emotion when it is least appropriate. So many never fall at all. Far too little never even give the power a second glance, for they are still after so many years, trying to pick up the various pieces of the life they lived before this force put their world together, only to tear it apart in more pieces than it had to put together the first time. In the cold darkness, the never ending nightmare that so many swam in tonight, this power was their only link to life, and would continue to be so for the remainder of their impossibly short, sweet nor sour, lives. For in this world, and in the next, there will never be an absolution.

Rose:

I awoke on a moving boat, and how I got to the position I am in at the moment is a blur, the only thought circling my head is Jack. Jack. Whether he is alive of not is at the hands of God, seeing to those souls who had perished in the unforgiving Atlantic. God, all I want is Jack, he can have Cal, my Mother, myself, anyone he wants, except for Jack. As the circumstances would permit, Jack was the most likely dead out of all of the names I would quickly exchange for his return to Earth. I have to know. I need to know. I need Jack, I have yet to ride like a man, drink cheap beer, and ride the roller coaster until I throw up. I can't do any of these things without him. Jack isn't just a person, he's a state of mind. Freedom. Beautiful freedom that comes in the form of mesmerizing blue eyes and striking blonde hair. The scent of old cigarettes and rainwater, and as I could imagine at the moment, saltwater too. What I wouldn't give to hold him once more, to breathe in those cigarettes and that rainwater. To dance to just one more song, to feel his heartbeat through his thin shirt, to hear his voice just one more time, to be with him, and make every moment count from here on out. The gentle rocking of the boat lured me into a deep sleep, where everything was good, and I still had the one thing I hold ever so dear to my heart.

When I awoke again, I found myself in a strange room, and I wouldn't have questioned my position if there were not a roof over my head. Yet somehow, there was, which meant one of two things, either I was dead, or another ship had finally taken pity on us and grabbed us out of the ocean where we had been residing for the past, well, I really don't know how long I was out there. Two days? Two hours? It had felt like two years, but if that were the case, the likelihood of my existence on this Earth after all of that time in the water would be extremely negative. But yet again, the medical equipment on the walls in the room proved that in fact I was very much alive. I didn't know where I was, or what in the world I was doing in this strange room, the only thing I could keep my focus on was the thought that I HAD survived, and because of this I needed to know if Jack had done the same, and God was I so done with people telling me what to do. I have had enough of that in my late childhood to last a lifetime. So when the nurse came and told me after I had gotten up to go and see if there was a passenger list I could view to sit down, I simply pushed her out of the way, because I am most certainly through with being polite. As I made my way farther up the stairs, I looked around. Oh God, the infirmary must have been on the first class level, because the first thing I saw was none other than Caledon Hockley's ugly face. Luckily, I made a quick dive behind a bench and narrowly avoided being seen. After he had passed, I walked over to the third class area, because if Jack was anywhere, he would be over here. Also, people over here weren't near as snotty. As I walked around the boat deck, all that could be heard was the wailing of children, likely mourning over a father, but with them being so far down in the class order, it could have been anyone. Finally I spotted a Carpathia crew member talking to an older woman, who was clamoring about her husband, not that I could ever blame her. Even the thought of losing Jack was enough to make me want to break down. I had to stay strong until I had reached an absolution, if nothing else, some kind of conclusion. I walked up to the man holding the clipboard.

"Sir? Sir I was wondering…" The man looked up from his clipboard and stared hard into my eyes.

"Yes?"

"Is there anyone with the name of _Jack Dawson_ on this ship?"

I do not own Titanic, the movie, or Titanic, the actual ship. I will post more soon!


	2. Fabri

Fabrizio:

All I wanted to do is go to America. One round trip, one easy passage, and a guarantee to make it big. Travel around with my migliore amico. Instead, we get stuck in a huge disastro, and God only knows if Jack is going to make it to America. I haven't seen him since the Carpathia picked me up and lifted me off of the wooden chair I was clinging to. I have no idea who has survived, and I have yet to travel up to the boat deck to see if Jack or his Rose have made it safely onto the ship. I would leave to go right now, but I still feel so debole. When I gain my strength again, I shall leave.

Ah, vite che, I'm going to go now. After all, I would get better in time, but if I missed my chance to find an absolution, I fear I shall stay awake for days, and that would not be good for my health. If I want to recover soon, this is the path I shall take.

The climb to the boat deck is a long one, and very doloroso. Each step caused shooting pain to travel up my body, due to my rotto ribs. I had barely escaped getting crushed by a large smoke stack while in the water, and had been grazed with the side, but even with the small size of the impact I had gotten harmed. Lord help those povere anime that were cursed with getting the full impact. Even those who did not perish by the way of falling debris had to survive in the inferno-like congelamento waters. I hate the idiota that put us in the boats by class. I agree with putting the donne and bambini first, but all class men should have been the ones to stay behind and survive gallantly. They never gave us a possibilita. We had the same right to live as anyone, yet they placed us last, as if our lives were worthless. Helga. Oh, mio dolce Helga. I had to know if she had survived. She had stayed behind with her genitori, and now I have no idea where she is. I hope one day we can be insieme. We shall meet again, whether it is on terra, in cielo, or in un'altra vita. I can only hope that I find her name on the passenger list. I think I il suo amore. I have never loved anyone as much as her, and I see now that Jack has never loved anyone as much as Bella Rosa. I also see that she loves him the same way, which is not something that is normal for a prima classe girl.

As I near the piattaforma della barca, I look around to see if anyone I know has visibly survived, after all, the majority of my friends are third class, and even Bella Rosa would probably be over here looking for Jack. Oh, Jack, what did you do to deserve this credele fate? It seems only yesterday we were the kings of the world and now… wait… that was yesterday. Ah, it seems the time for wondering off into the dream world is over, and it is time for reality to set in, and with it the crudele environment of the unforgiving world around me. I once thought that the world was with me, traveled with me, maybe even vied for my safety at night. I thought this world was forgiving, innocent, and simplistic. Beautiful, calm, and sincere, and maybe even in some circumstances, generous. I now see, as my eyes have been aperto to this world, that it may not be as kind as once thought by myself and countless others. After an experience such as this one, we see that all things are once again possible. Immortals can die. Unsinkable ships can sink. Those said to have days to live have years. Those who have years to live have hours. And all the while, we arrogant beings still believe that we are as invincible as God himself.

It's kind of like the fact that those who were said to have died lived. That's the case with il mio migliore amico, Jack Dawson, you see. Because when everyone else thought him to be dead, I found him to be alive. Quite alive indeed.  
"Jack?"

I do not own Titanic in any way, shape, or form


	3. Lifestyle Changes

Rose. Rose. Rose. She consumed my thoughts. The Titanic may have sank. The world could have ended, yet the only word on my lips was Rose. Titanic was gone, and with it, everyone I held dear. Including her. I still am curious as to what happened last night. I can remember bits and pieces, but I fear that this is one puzzle I will never complete, for the pieces are simply too scattered. I remember being in the water for so long, so long that I had fallen asleep in my attempt to keep out the cold. I was dreaming she was whispering my name. It was a pleasant dream, one that seemed it would never come true, for she was informing me that a boat had come to save us all. The dream soon ended when I felt pressure on my body. I instantly awoke, only to find that this pressure was the effect of the icy, dark waters that enveloped me, swallowing me whole. My reflexes told me to breathe in, but my body told me to swim upwards to the surface. Once there, I looked over to the slab of wood that Rose had previously been laying on, only to notice that it was empty. She was gone. Rose was…gone. It was my fault she had rolled off, and now she had sunk, dead like the others in the silent waters of the unforgiving Atlantic. I figured I would fulfill the promise she made me, for it would have been what she had wanted if she were to still be alive. I climbed up onto the door/door frame she had been floating on and sat. And waited. And waited. Waited to live. Waited to die. Waited for an absolution, that would never come. But alas, it finally did. When I saw the light of the Carpathia, I knew it was time to move, or I would never reach a boat. I started to swim over, and the rest, well, I can't exactly remember. I was pulled out of my thought train by a voice, a voice I feared I would never hear again. The voice of Fabrizio De Rossi.

"Jack! I'm a' so happy to see you!" A figure came flying at me and slammed into my body. I instantly patted Fabri on the back and then pulled away. Fabri had lived. A third class man other than myself had lived. My best friend had lived. I wasn't alone.

"Fabri, please don't take this the wrong way, but how did you survive? I saw that…umm…smoke stack fall and I thought I had seen you-" And that's when I noticed the bandages around his ribs. But hurt or not, Fabrizio was alive, and maybe Rose was too. If this doesn't prove that miracles can happen, I don't know what does. The fact that I was no longer alone was an unimaginable blessing, one that I couldn't hope but to dream up, one that seemed impossible to reach, for as hard as you try, for as long as you try, you will never, in blood or in bone, be able to bring a dead man back to life. Or change a set truth. But here, right here in front of me was evidence that even though we may be but a speck of dust in God's eye, we still are visible, prominent, and outstanding in ways not even foreseen by the wisest of men. That seemed to be the mystery of our existence. How does one stand out in a crowd of thousands, let alone billions? But yet again, Rose stood out to me in a crowd of billions, but that was simply the effect of love. It's funny how you always seem to fall the hardest at the wrong time, or in the wrong place, but somehow, someway, you always end up with the right person.

Life is a simple, yet complex balance of right and wrong all at the same time. It is a pattern one cannot decipher for a rate of change or a function in which one can write a rule for. It is an ongoing phenomenon in which the rich couldn't even pay to find out the system in which it takes after. There is no rhyme or reason, no "every five rights must consist of three and a quarter wrongs," but instead that nothing is consistent, nothing stays forever, and everything is replaceable. But that would be a lie, for not everything is replaceable.

For nothing in this world could ever fill the empty void left from the realization that Rose was gone. And she was never coming back.

Cal

"Come along darling, we don't want to be late to get off the boat! Remember, we, being the first class passengers we are, should always go first. You best not fall behind, Emma. You don't want to run into any gutter rats." I suppose I shouldn't be telling a five year old steerage passenger that she should be wary of any and all gutter rats, since her parents were most likely that type, at least by the way the girl was dressed when I found her. At first, I was happy with the child, for she allowed me a one way ticket onto the last lifeboat available, securing my survival and assuring my pride, but now…the child was starting to grow on me. I thought maybe once she had figured out what had really happened she would repulse me, but for some reason, she doesn't. But yet again, I am all she has in the world. Her family is gone. She has one pair of clothes, and if it weren't for my clever skill of spotting things that are hard to find, (I have many talents, as all first class men do) she would not have been secured a spot in a lifeboat either, and would have been left to die. A child. The most innocent thing in the world, left to fend for itself in the unforgivingly cold waters.

I guess you could I say I had a change of heart. Emma, with only a few tears, could teach me more than my father, Nathan Hockley, could in a lifetime. She taught me that all young life is precious. Well, most of it anyway. No doubt any trash of Dawson's would be worth any more than the ten dollars he had in his pocket, if he even had that much. That leads me to my next train of thought, why would Rose, a perfectly brought up lady, choose to live with a gutter rat instead of my handsome, rich, smart, oh, did I mention _rich,_ self? I mean, am I not the definition of perfect? Well, her loss. While she is out collecting pennies from people as she works as a seamstress, I will be providing the best, most beautiful dresses in all of Philadelphia society for my daughter. I didn't even know Emma's nationality, although I expected her to be Irish, or her birth name. Her parents had simply, well, up and left her.

Emma simply got up and nodded to my order. She hasn't said a word to me since, well, she's never said a word to me. I don't even know if she speaks fluent English. I suppose she did, because she seemed to understand what I wanted her to do. Emma took my hand, and I picked her up in my arms. I may have not birthed her, but I felt as if I had known her for a very long time, even if it had only been a couple of hours. I didn't care if I had to legally adopt her, I wanted her to be mine. I wanted to raise her as my own, and show her all of the fine points in life. I wanted to show her to everyone, and give her the best of everything. She gave me a new purpose for living, and for that, I am eternally grateful. I guess you could say she saved me, but in more than simply getting me a spot on a lifeboat. I could now give her everything I wanted to give Rose, but my father wouldn't be pleased that I had let her go. Especially with the necklace…oh well, I'll just buy another necklace, one far prettier, and give it to the new love of my life, my one and only daughter Emma. She was the new source of my happiness. I couldn't remember a time when I was happier than when I first felt her small body hanging on to mine in the lifeboat as the Titanic sank from underneath. Her small hands in mine, holding onto me, and at that moment, I felt as if I wanted to guard this child from all of the pain the world has to offer, all of the sin, the lies, the pain, and the reality of it all.

I still have no idea if she even remembers what really happened two nights ago, and as I stare up at the Statue of Liberty, holding Emma in my arms, I don't have a care in the world. I am a changed man, and I intend to stay that way. I want to please my daughter, to make her feel loved, something I never could accomplish for Rose. I needed a new way of showing what I felt, and I didn't know how to do that. Maybe there's a book on that somewhere…

I still do not own Titanic...:(


	4. Ruth's Truths

Rose

I am so done. Done with this gross medicine, done with being constantly poked and prodded by doctors who think that they are able to "help" my situation and get me better faster. Well Mr. Professional, at this point, the only thing that could possible make me feel better is Jack. To hold him, to see him, to speak with him. Well, the person who just walked in my door is the second best thing, but the worst thing possible. Fabrizio de Rossi. His best friend. _Jack's_ best friend. At that thought I burst into tears.

"Ah, what is a-wrong, Bella Rosa? Why do I make you so unhappy?" Poor Fabri, I feel bad for crying, but all he does is remind me of Jack. Jack's sweet laugh, his bright smile, his beautiful blonde hair, his sweet heart beating, alive and well. Seeing Fabri alive was beautiful, but so bittersweet, as it only reminded me that Jack wasn't. I had let go. It was all my fault. I had taken Fabrizio's best friend, my lover, a son, probably a brother, too.

"Sorry Fabri, It's not that I'm not glad that you're alive and here, you just remind me so much of Jack…I'm so sorry Fabri, I'm so sorry, it's really all my fault." And it was. All of this was my doing, and I will be forever guilty. I deserve to die, I really do. I want Jack back. I want Cora back. I want Helga and Mr. Andrews. I want Trudy and Mr. Cartmel and all of the people I didn't even know. I'd even take Cal and my mother back if it meant that everyone else would still be living.

"What is your fault Bella Rosa? It is not your fault that you are sick, if anything it is that idiot who thought that they only needed about half-a the lifeboats that we really did-a need." Fabrizio has no idea of the events following the initial sinking of Titanic, and what really happened to Jack. He has no idea of the pain I am feeling all due to my actions last night in the water. He probably didn't even know that Jack had died, sinking into the icy black darkness of the frozen North Atlantic. It was his right to know, it was only fair.

"Fabri…last night I…"

"Say no more, Bella Rosa, I know already. Last night was a hard evening for all of us."

Know? How could Fabri know? Could he have been near me as I let go…I _let go…_ of Jack's hands and let him sink? I would hope so, it would be much easier than actually having to explain his death, and there was the fact that we were going to get off together…it would be crazy, but that's why I trusted it. He told me that he was a survivor. But I guess that all good things must come to an end, I just wish that for once, maybe even just to weigh out the pain that I have felt in the past years, something good might stay, and Jack, well, he was the epitome of good. Everything he did was beautiful, from the strokes his drawing tools made on the paper to his blonde hair and blue eyes, he was just all around gorgeous. And not just on the outside. His heart was amazingly good, the purest of them all, and the way he was…just simply the act of being Jack Dawson…well, how could that be anything but good? I guess heaven just needed a bit of good to tie itself over, because God, if there was any reason in this good world why Jack would ever have this kind of fate written into his stars, then it would be because God needed another angel, one with beautiful golden hair and an even more beautiful heart.

I only wish that he could be with me one more time, that I could feel the gentleness of his hardworking hands, that I could experience his good soul once more. God, why did the world have to be so cruel?

Ruth

Thank _Heavens_ that _disaster_ is finally over. Here I am, sitting in my perfect, beautiful room, with my dau- never mind, Rose is no daughter of mine. Anyway, with a certain someone named Rose's perfect, rich, handsome, kind, considerate, smart, wealthy, well-to-do, productive, oh, did I already mention that he had a very large sum of money in the banks in America? I believe I did, but anyway, and the next minute, I'm swept off my feet, into the cold, with not even twenty minutes to pick out the most appropriate outfit for the occasion, no doubt an object of ridicule for the other women, and that's not even counting the state of my family, anyway, so I'm cot in the appropriate outfit, and soon after I'm lifted into a small, uncomfortable boat, with nothing to do but sit in the boat and wait. Wait to live…wait to die…wait for an absolution that would never come. I still do not know the sum of all of the jewelry that I have lost…or how much insurance will cover. But my biggest area of concern, even if I must never tell any of the other women, is the welfare of my daugh- goodness, I almost did it again, sorry, my acquaintance.

I haven't seen Rose at all since she ran away from myself on the boat…such an inconsiderate girl, but nonetheless, a strong women. I can't deny that she has her father's state of mind. No thinking and all doing, doing anything, despite the possible consequences in society. Or family, or anyone. Which was part of the way our good name fell into such a deep pit of fines and hidden debts. She could be dead for all I knew…she could have frozen to death with that third class troublemaker that my *acquaintance* calls her lover. But God, I know all about those so called lovers. I had one of those. His name was Alexander Coumpe, and I fell right into his death trap. I had fallen hard for him in my early twenties, but as we grew older, he grew into a whole different person, until one day, he simply up and left me. That day I went to my own mother, who had thought I was a public disgrace for courting Alexander in the first place, he was a mill worker, and I was a lady, raised in a proper family, with good money and a roof, a fancy one at that, over my head. Once she heard of the betrayal, she immediately responded by marrying me off to the richest man in the village, who turned out to be someone, yet again, far different than I was expecting. I just don't want the same thing to happen to my Rose, I don't want to see her heart broken.

My only condolence was Molly. God, she had been a blessing through the whole process, making sure I had food, water, anything I needed, hand he stayed with me the whole time, keeping me company. I could say I had a new appreciation for this "new money", who really wasn't as bad as I had originally thought. The "jokes", unladylike things those are, are quite atrocious at times, even to the point of inappropriateness, can be a bit much at times, but overall her company is much appreciated, and from her I have a new understanding of the way things worked. I especially got that feeling when I read the newspaper the morning after departing the Carpathia, and found out how many had died. More than 1,500 people had died. Some friends, some not. There were people that died two nights ago, that I don't even know the name of. Not that they were very important on the social ladder, but still, 1,500 lives were ended in over 2 hours. There was simply not enough lifeboats for the number of people on board, and whatever idiot thought of that might as well have been tossed overboard when the ship sank. But instead, I found that there is word that he made it out safely on a lifeboat, and not the last one either. That sick, sick, man. I just sat in my own little corner of my stay room in the Jane Hotel, and thought, that out of 2,200 people, over 1,500 survived, including the man who doomed the whole ship, yet only 700 lived, and whether that number includes Rose, I may never know.

Yep, still trying, but I don't own Titanic.


	5. Adjustments

Jack

If I could just get this one line right…come on, come on, come on…darn it! I was attempting to recreate an accurate picture of Rose, one that perfectly captured her warm smile and personality, but every time I began to draw, I would mess up and make a line that simply did not fit with the rest of the picture. I guess it's easier to draw from something that's right in front of you, than draw something from your memory, especially because that memory of yours may be slightly biased. It's kind of like when you're little, and you have a kid that always seems to steal your bread, and then when you picture them in your mind, you don't just see them. You see an evil looking kid with a devilish grin on his face, and all of his worst features pronounced to their greatest extent. After I finish my drawing of her, I will move on to Tommy, Cora, Helga (I'm giving that one to Fabri), and finally I will replace the drawing of my family that was in my portfolio as the ship went down, and there was no way I was going back down into the ship to retrieve a simple drawing, even if it was one of my more important ones.

I can still smell my mother's cooking coming from our small kitchen in Chippewa Falls. We lived on a small farm, we had a few horses, cows, nothing too large. Our house was pretty small, it was just a two bedroom, two bathroom, so it was pretty hard to fit May, Marsee, Abbigail, my parents, and I in the same house. I can remember sharing a room with the girls, much to my dismay at the time, but little did I know how lucky I was to have them. Winters were always the hardest in the little house. We never had much money, but life was still good, even when the cold winter air seeped through the cracks in the siding. I don't remember all that much about my parents, other than the occasional ice fishing trip with my father, and life lesson-type-thing with my mother. I had no idea how good my life was back then. No idea at all. Then the trouble started. I can still remember that night like it was yesterday. I had been out late with a couple of the neighborhood boys, we had been playing kick the can and such. It was about one in the morning, and I was coming back to my house, I had started smelling smoke. Not just the smell you get when you accidentally burn a meal, but smoke, overwhelming and powerful, to the point where it was hard to breathe. I had figured something was wrong, but I hadn't put the pieces together until I had reached the house, only to find it engulfed in flames. I couldn't tell solid wood from ash, and I couldn't see anything but the fire. To make things worse, I couldn't see anyone outside, no one at all.

The next morning I can remember the police coming to the farm, which had been reduced to a few piles of ashes and overly burnt wood. They had said that the fire had started when a lamp inside the house had been knocked over by the breeze. They also had said that they had found four bodies. Marsee, Abbigail, my Mother, and Father were all found in the house. The term bodies was not one my 13 year old body wanted to hear. So I ran, I ran far away, to the point where I booked a trip to Italy, bringing with me only my portfolio and the little money that I had in my pockets before the fire started. To this day I still wonder what ever happened to May. They had said that they had never found her body, but by the state of the house they had no reason to believe that she had actually made it out alive, and instead had told me that it was very likely that she had simply, like the rest of the house, been reduced to ashes.

As I sit on my small bench, on the deck of the Carpathia, where us "third-class passengers who were of no value whatsoever to society" slept, I continued to think of that day. Wondering what it would have been like, what life would have been like, if I had simply stayed in Chippewa instead of going to Italy. But then I remember, if that were the case, I would have never known Fabri, Rose, or Tommy.

Rose

So far, I've seen Fabri, Madelyn (Now widowed and in a delicate state, now I fear society may eat her alive. And by society, I mean my mother), speak of the devil, yesterday I did get a glimpse of her and Mr. "Perfect, so wonderful and nothing he could do would ever be wrong" walking down the boat deck earlier. I had a near collision with them, but managed to pull my blanket over my head before I was seen, just as I had a day before that, when Cal had come down to the third class deck and asked to see me, but the officer simply replied "You'll find none of your kind down here, sir.". I am currently staying in third class to one, avoid my mother, and two, to honor Jack, to get out of the cage that was holding me down, saving the fire that Jack would have wanted me to use until the day I joined him in the afterlife. I am currently sleeping on the wooden deck, which is quite different than I am used to, which would be extravagant beds with fluffed pillows and rich comforters. I like the feeling of the deck in a strange way. It gives me a sense of independence, and tells everyone that yes, I was a first class girl. And yes, I've always lived in the best of the luxury items, but I can live in any condition, in any place, and I can do anything I set my mind to, even if I'm not used to it. I am no longer that "poor little rich girl" that I was on the Titanic, I'm now an independent woman, and can do anything I wish.

I like to believe that Jack would have been proud. That he would have been overjoyed to see how my life was beginning to turn out. He would be excited to know that I had taken control, and gotten away from the weight of my past life. But as the situation now presents itself, I can only guess at what Jack would think. God, I don't even have a picture of him. He lives now, only in my memory. I still don't believe that he is dead half the time. I still find myself waking up, going to bed, and just simply walking around thinking that in a few days, I will be standing at a railing, with Jack's arms encircling my waist, looking up at the statue of liberty, which was so much more than a statue. Even as an American, it meant freedom and a new life, it meant independence and a new state of being, it meant a new me, and what would have been a new life with Jack. One where I might live with Jack. I might be married to Jack, I might even have a child running around in a matter of years.

I may be thinking ahead, but I already know that I won't be raising my children like my mother raised me, and all of my "friend's" mothers had done to their children. I like to imagine my children running free. In a meadow, perhaps. Sometimes I close my eyes and see Jack standing above them, a boy and two girls, and giving each child their turn to fly. I see myself running around with the children, playing with them and teaching them things that I was never taught by anyone but the servants in my house, only getting a small lesson on cooking or writing in different languages in the five minutes in which I could get away from my mother before she found out and went after me again, only to bring me back into my bedroom so that I could get her kind of lesson. One that taught me how to sit, eat, act, talk, and carry myself like a lady, a lady of high class and a rich background. A woman of thirty was somehow being forced into the body of a seven year old. The thirty year old being pushed and prodded, shoved and sown into a small body, in which it does not even come close to fitting into the object it is being put into. Like a toddler trying to put a square peg into a round hole. As you could imagine, it hurt worse than any pain that was previously imaginable. I vowed the day that I turned fourteen to never let anyone I loved turn out like that. I promised myself that there was nothing in this world that would push me to treat someone so small, someone so innocent and helpless, like a slave that must be taught to be obedient in their own home. An experience that no person should ever have to go through. An experience that I however, did have to go through. An experience, that as long as I live, I will work hard to make sure that it does not come upon anyone that I come in contact in, because I owe that to Jack.

This is getting a little repetitive :). Nope, incase it was unclear in any way, I don't own Titanic.


	6. What We've Been Waiting For

Fabrizio:

Perche? Perche? Why in the world would they still be organizing famiglie by class? Haven't we been through enough already? Proven our worth? But of course, no one could ever be as wonderful or as perfect as the first class people. Because money makes all the difference in a world such as this one, it changes you. And I cannot say for the meglio. Ah, if only I could see Miss Helga again, I miss her so. If they are finally letting us get off of this infernale ship, then I must be towards the front of the line. Well, the first class line. I should probablimente go to get Jack and Rosa before I leave the ship, if not to keep traveling together, then just to say goodbye.

I do wish to continue traveling around the world, free as can be with my migliore amico, but due to the latest circumstance, I'm not sure that I even want to continue traveling. I never want to have to experience something like this ever again. I still have the screams of other passengers permanently etched into my ears and brain, and I fear I may never get them out. Jack also has another reason to settle down a bit, and not travel as much as he used to. I know Jack may have only been with Miss Rosa for a couple of days, but the way he acts around her, well, you would have thought that they had been together for years. After finally finding someone that he really loves, Jack may want to sit down for a while and provide a calm life for Miss Rosa, who has always been accustomed to the finer things in life. Oh mio, how I wish La signorina Helga were here…

All of the sudden, I spotted Jack walking across the deck, towards the end of the Carpathia. I ran to catch up to him, but my legs and ribs were still sore from the long night. (Yes, book reference intended) When I finally did catch up to him, he had one leg on the railing, looking out at the sea.

"We are not the kings anymore, are we?" I said.

"Kings? I don't know, but we are something. We survived, Fabri. That's more than most of the ship can say. That's more than *gulp*… Rose…can say. We are lucky Fabri. So, so lucky." Jack said morosely. I felt worse for Jack than I did for myself. I had lost love, but he had lost one more than that. He had lost the one person who he felt he was to be with for a long time to come. I guessed that Rose was to be swept up back into the first class life with Mr. Hockley. There could be no other reason Jack spoke of losing Rose like he did.

"Well, Jack, if we are not the kings of the whole world, can we at least be the kings of something?"

"I don't think I am fit to be king at the moment, Fabri!" Jack cracked a smile for the first time since the sinking. "I think I may be better suited as a… small business manager? Maybe a hat shop owner!"

At this I began to laugh; the first laugh that I had had since the sinking. Maybe things were looking up for Jack and I. Maybe this was our chance to rebuild. Start from the beginning. Just then, I saw a red-haired figure wrapped in a patterned blanket, looking very distraught, coming towards me with a depressed look on her face. I waved Bella Rosa over, just to make sure she knew that she was welcome. I felt it was only appropriate that I warn Jack of his lost love coming for a visit.

"Jack, don't look now, amico, I would walk over to another part of the ship."

"Why Fabri?"

Rose:

I had begun to become bored with the same below-deck surroundings, so I had decided to take a look outside, and luckily, I had found Fabrizio looking out into the ocean with another man, a tall blonde. The blonde looked like _him_. It wasn't though, and I didn't need to go up there to realize that my hopes were as false as the claims that Titanic was "unsinkable". At least I was not alone. Fabri was without Helga, too. I could do this. I could walk up there and talk to Fabri without getting emotional about how his new friend looked like Jack from the back. I knew I could. And I did.

"Hello, Fabri. How are you faring? I've been thinking abou-"

That's when he turned around. His eyes. He had the bluest eyes I had ever seen, even for a blonde. His hair. It fell perfectly at his eyes, messily sprawling all over the place, with thick golden locks. His lips. How could I forget those? His clothing. The same that it had been just two simple nights ago. His voice. Him. He. _Jack_.

But it wasn't possible. I had let go of him into the water and rolled off of the wooden door keeping me afloat. Could he have…no. It's just not realistic. Snap out of it, Rose! _But they were just so similar_ …no! The pieces didn't fit! _But you could recognize that face anywhere._ I began to cry, mostly because I was confused. I looked up to see the blonde had tears in his eyes too. Than Fabri spoke. Bless his heart.

"Bella Rosa, amico mio, why are you two so sad? I am aware that Bella Rosa must return to her former life, at least that is what si has suggested, Jack. But I s-"

That was all the reassurance that I needed. It was Jack. I no longer cared about how he had gotten to his place in front of me; there would be time for that later. I flung myself into his arms, and he wrapped his arms around me. I was sobbing, and he was too, judging by the wet feeling of the cloth on my shoulders. That was all we needed. To hold each other one last time. To tell each other that we loved one another again. I don't know how long we stood in that position, engulfed in each other's arms. It felt like years and seconds at the same time. I clung to the back of his ruined shirt as if it was my lifeline. Everyone's possessions had been taken by the unforgiving Atlantic, so we were being forced to wear what we had gone down in. When we finally released me, we looked over to the other side of the boat to speak to Fabri, but he was gone. Then we looked at each other. I couldn't help it anymore. I took Jack's face in my hands and kissed him. I had missed the feeling of his lips on mine. It was over too soon, and we were pushed back into reality.

"Jack I-"

"Rose I-" I laughed, mostly because there was nothing else to do. I wanted to cry, sing, fly, and combust all at the same time, but now didn't seem to be the most appropriate time to do any of those things.

"You may go first," I said politely.

"Okay," Jack said while laughing. He stopped, however, when he began to speak about the topic, his voice wavered. "Rose, I love you, so much, you know that, right? Well, I would hope. But how…how are you here? I thought I had seen you…" I replied, "It's a long story.

Jack:

Later that evening, as Rose and I stared up at the Statue of Liberty, I thought about what our life would be like once we exited the Carpathia. What would we do? Where would we stay? How was I, a starving artist, going to feed and provide for someone that had had all the best of everything her whole life? I know she had said that she wanted to live like I did- running off into the sunset whenever I feel like it- but I'm not quite sure she is ready for it. Yes, it may be fun _sometimes,_ but it can also be a difficult and risky life to lead. It can be beautiful sleeping under the stars, but when you awake and have splinters all around your back, and three hungry mouths to feed that you don't have the money to actually put food in their mouths, that kind of life just doesn't cut it anymore. I know she could handle it; like I said, she's a strong one. What I don't know is if at this point that it is quite what I want to do anymore.

I may have only known Rose for a little more than…what now? Seven? Six days at the least. But I feel as if I have known her for all eternity. She is the part of me that I didn't even know was missing. I love her. I didn't think that it was possible to be in love with someone in that short amount of time, but this past week we have been proven otherwise. We've been through perdition and back, and now I would like to settle down a little bit. Maybe find a permanent home, not just a favorite park bench or bridge underside.

Earlier, as I listened to Rose's story, and explained my story, I realized something. All of us, every single darned soul on this ship, has some kind of story to tell. Some of us have lost love like Fabri. Some of us have lost everything we have owned, like Caledon. Some of us have lost our families, and some of us have lost our livelihood altogether. But some have a worse fate. For some, the world has no record of their existence. If I were to die three nights ago, the world would have had no idea that a man named Jack Dawson had ever lived. There were people on Titanic- Cora, for example. Small, sweet, innocent Cora. She had perished on Titanic, along with so many others, including every surviving family member that she had. No one will ever recall the name of Cora Cartmell. No one at all. No one will say in 20 or so years "Hey, James, remember that young Cora girl? No? Well, her smile could light up a room." No one will pull out a picture and say "Look Ann, this is little Cora! Isn't she adorable?" Luckily, I have that one picture that I drew of Cora and her father looking out and pointing at the sea. I should hope that particular picture shall find a nice spot in whatever home Rose and I can find. I want people to know who our friends were, how they lived, and their story. No one deserved that fate and to be forgotten along with it.

"Names, please." An officer said from behind me. I hadn't even realized that he was there.

"Jack Dawson." The officer nodded and looked at Rose.

"Dawson. Rose Dawson." My eyes directly went to her, wondering why she had used my name. I was flattered, but very curious. As a reply, she said nothing. She smiled, kissed me on the cheek, and returned to the statue.

I couldn't believe it. We were finally in America. Home. If you had asked me if I had ever thought that I would make it here, of all places, while floating in the icy and unforgiving waters of the Atlantic, if I still had the strength, I would have laughed, because I would have thought such a notation was absolutely insane. But here I am. Here _we_ are. Together. Safe. Free. It's all I could ever hope for.

I Don't own Titanic, and probably never will.


End file.
